


To the Mattresses

by lolitaxlolita



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gold's a smexy villain, I hate AUs but I ended up writing one???, WIP, You've Got Mail AU, steel under silk belle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolitaxlolita/pseuds/lolitaxlolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a huge chain bookstore threatens Belle's business, things get ugly. Especially when she starts dealing with the chain's CEO, Mr. Gold. Why can't this cold, heartless man be more like the sweet, sensitive guy she's been emailing, they guy she's starting to fall for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time in New York City

**Author's Note:**

> Basically "You've Got Mail" written Rumbelle style. You definitely don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, but PLEASE for your well-being watch it because it is awesome. Please let me know what you think, or if I should continue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> props to Oliver and Company for the title to this chapter. lol.

To the Mattresses

Chapter 1: Once Upon A Time in New York City

 

Belle French started her day much like she started all of her days. She woke up, made some tea, and checked her email. She smiled when she saw that there was one new message in her inbox. Hastily clicking on the icon, she checked that it was from who she thought it was from, and her smile widened when she read the address: [ny425@yahoo.com](mailto:ny425@yahoo.com)

Clutching her tea and settling in to read the email, she felt perfectly content. It was a beautiful autumn morning in New York City, the sun was streaming in and warming her to the bone, and she had just enough time to read her email before going to work.

**Don’t tell anyone, because I’m known as something of a curmudgeon, but I love New York in the fall. The leaves, the atmosphere, the changing weather. It gives one a sense that, at any moment, something wonderful could happen. Plus, I love school supplies. I realize you are no doubt laughing at me right now,**

Belle was.

**but I do. There is simply some kind of mesmerizing quality that brand new school supplies hold for me. If I knew where you lived, I would send you a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils.**

**I hope something wonderful happens to you today.**

Belle grinned and turned the computer off before getting dressed for work. Her day always seemed a little brighter when she got an email from ny425. She had met the man online, in a chatroom. They had both been sucked into a debate on whether Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy was the better writer and that had developed into a discussion on 18th century literature, which had evolved into an argument about the merits of Indian food, and somehow they had ended up exchanging email addresses. They had been writing each other for a few months now, and with every email she felt as if she knew this man a little better.

For some reason, Belle hadn’t told her father, who lived in the same apartment building and spent a lot of time with her, about ny425. She supposed that she felt a little ashamed of herself. After all, she hadn’t been on a proper date in a while (8 months) and the fact that right now the most intimate relationship she had was with someone she had never met was a little…pathetic.

Not that she would stop writing to him. The man made her laugh, made her think, and best of all he seemed to actually appreciate her ideas, which were qualities that she had been starting to think were not even present in the male species.

Belle donned a royal blue skirt and a white lace blouse, threw on a cardigan and left for work. It was early, most of the shops weren’t open yet. As she walked down the street, everything seemed to stand out to her in more detail. The colors seemed sharper, the smells more fragrant. Everything seemed…special. And she realized that it was because of what ny425 had said, about fall being his favorite season. This morning, she was seeing the city through his eyes.

As Belle turned the corner and walked past a construction site, she smiled and started mentally composing her reply. She made sure to remember that she wanted to tell him how his words had made her appreciate the city in a different way that day. A slight breeze blew, rustling Belle’s skirt and hair, and she took a deep breath.

Nothing was going to bring her down today.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

           Belle turned the key in the door of her shop and stepped inside, putting her purse down behind the counter and giving a quick glance around to be sure that nothing was out of place.

            Belle absolutely loved her bookstore. It was called _Bravery Books_ and she had been putting money away since she was 16 to get it going. Seven years later, she opened for business. _Bravery Books,_ or simply _The Bravery,_ as some of her regulars liked to call it, sold a little bit of everything. She had something for the bibliophiles, early editions of some crowd favorites and Belle had a knack for sniffing out first editions at auctions and estate sales. She had the hot new releases, for the casual reader. Belle had a wide selection of both fiction and nonfiction. Her favorites were the travel guides and photography books, with their glossy photos of faraway lands. Belle even had a modest children’s section. Every Saturday morning, she put on a princess hat and read a story to a small group of entranced children. It was one of her favorite things about her job.

            She had worked damn hard to get the shop up and running, and to get it to where it was today. It hadn’t always been easy. But she made a profit most days, and she was surrounded by her books, and she got to meet all kinds of people and make friends and talk books. Belle felt as if her life really couldn’t get any better.

            The bell over the door chimed, and Belle looked up from the display she was straightening and smiled.

            “Hi Ruby! Good morning Granny,” she said with a smile.

            Belle had three employees: Ruby Lucas, Ruby’s grandmother (simply called ‘Granny’ by all who knew her, much to Belle’s amusement) and Leroy Harrison. They had been working with her almost since the shop first opened five years ago. She couldn’t imagine running the shop without them. They weren’t only loyal employees, they were her best friends.

            “Hey, Belle.” Ruby said, putting down her bag and getting the counter set up. Granny patted Belle’s shoulder and headed around to fix the books on the other end of the table. Belle went over and flipped the sign on the door to ‘Open.’

            “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Belle asked as she took a box out from under the counter and began to put out the new thriller that was released the previous day.

            Ruby eyed her warily. “Sure.”

            Belle refused to be deterred. “I mean, what’s better than New York in the fall?” she said with a smile.

            “What’s got you so cheery this early?” Granny asked with her usual frankness.

            Suddenly Ruby broke out in a sly grin. “Oh, I get it,” she said, looking at Belle knowingly. “It’s her cyber boyfriend.”

            Belle rolled her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend. How can you be in a relationship if you’ve never met the person?”

            “You’re still writing to him, Belle?” Granny asked.

            Belle bit her lip. “Do you disapprove?” she asked. She didn’t want Granny, who she almost thought of as her real grandmother, to think she was being irresponsible or foolish.

            But her fears were unfounded, because Granny just laughed. “Lord, no. I was just wondering why you haven’t met him in person yet.”

            “Neither of us has mentioned it,” Belle replied. “I think right now I’m just comfortable the way things are.”

            “So.” Ruby leaned over the counter and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Have you had cybersex yet?”

            “What? No!” Belle was blushing furiously and tried to hide it by ducking under the table for more books. “It’s not like that.”

            Ruby pouted. “Boo. Well, when you do I want _all_ the details.”

            Luckily, Leroy came in at that moment and spared Belle from replying. Leroy had a scowl on his face, but Belle didn’t bat an eyelash at that. Leroy always had a scowl on his face, and though he may seem grumpy and unpleasant to others, those who knew him (Like Belle and the store’s regulars) knew that he had a kind heart.

            “Have you seen what they’re building just around the corner?” he demanded.

            “Well good morning to you, too,” Granny retorted. Leroy ignored her.

            “It’s a Gold Books.”

            Ruby and Granny both frowned at that. “You’re sure?” Granny asked.

            “There’s a big freakin’ sign over the construction site that says ‘Future home of Gold Books’ so yeah, pretty sure,” Leroy replied.

            “Crap,” Ruby sighed, turning to Belle. “This sucks.”

            “Why?” Belle asked with a smile. “You think once that soulless megastore opens up it will steal away our customers?” Ruby nodded, and Belle scoffed. “Please. They won’t last a month. There’s way too many small businesses around here competing for business, and the people that live in this area are loyal to them. I don’t feel threatened in the least,” she said, as the door chimed and their first customer walked in.

            “Well, I wish I could share your optimism,” Leroy grumbled before getting to work.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

            Mr. Gold, CEO of Gold Books, Inc., walked into the semi-finished interior of the new location and almost smiled. Construction was ahead of schedule, there had been no delays or problems with permits, and the grand opening of this store would make Gold Books the largest discount book retailer in the U.S.

            “It’s nice, right?”

            Gold turned to look at the woman with him. “It’s coming along,” he replied.

            Regina laughed. “Coming along? It’s nearly done!” She looked around at the spacious interior of the bookstore. Regina Mills was Mr. Gold’s second, the vice president of the company. He had been in business with her for nearly ten years. They were a good match when it came to business: she was just as cutthroat as he was. And although Gold would never admit it to anyone, least of all Regina, she was the closest thing he had to a friend.

            Gold turned back to face the open doorway and gestured out at the street with his cane. “But what about the reception? You can’t tell me that these little neighborhood businesses are going to be pleased with us.”

            Regina rolled her eyes. “Actually, Mr. Negative, we haven’t heard from them at all. It’s the residents of this area of the city that are speaking up. And they’re excited.”

            Gold grinned. “Discount books, cappuccino, and a place to sit and read for hours with no one bothering you. I can see why.”

            Regina frowned. “But what if the small businesses around here _do_ start to fight it?”

            Gold gripped his cane tightly in front of him, firmly planted on the clean white tiles, and looked out over the clean, white, almost completed store.

            “Then we crush them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

            The first thing Gold did when he arrived home at his penthouse apartment that night (after feeding Pongo, of course) was check his email. The corners of his lips twitched up in a rare smile when he saw that shopgirl had emailed him back. He chuckled quietly as he read the first part.

_A bouquet of pencils? I’ve heard (and correct me if I’m wrong) that most women prefer flowers. I’m sure that if some mystery man sent me a bouquet of my favorite flowers (red roses) it would be wholly less creepy than if I were to suddenly receive a bunch of sharp wooden implements._

_But thanks for the thought._

_I have to admit, I had a great day today, and I think a large part of it had to do with your email this morning. New York_ is _beautiful in the fall, but I’m not sure I ever completely noticed it. Actually, I got some bad news this morning at work, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to be worried._

_Anyway, hope you check your email tonight!_

Gold smiled again, changed out of his suit, made dinner, and typed up his reply as he ate.

**Certainly the last thing I would want to do is become a creeper, dearie (although I have been told on more than one occasion that I am naturally suited to it). Perhaps crayons, or rulers?**

**I must say I’m glad that my rambling diatribe brightened your day. But the bad news you mentioned, is it serious?**

**Pongo sends his regards, and asks that I throw the tennis ball down the hall for him. So I must bid you good night, my dear.**

~~~~~~~~~~

Belle, wearing light blue pajamas with gold threads woven through them like shining pinstripes, snuggled down under the quilt and read the email again. _So I must bid you good night, my dear._ His emails were always a bit formal, but she loved how…gentlemanly he sounded.

            Smiling, she closed the laptop and turned off the light. _I wonder what he looks like…_ she wondered as she drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

            On Saturday morning, Gold woke up at 7:00 as usual, walked Pongo, had a quick breakfast, and was preparing to put on a suit when his cell buzzed on the nightstand. Picking it up, he saw that Regina had texted him.

_Don’t tell me you’re going in to work today._

Gold perused his tie collection as he absently texted her back.

**Of course not, it’s Saturday in case you haven’t noticed.**

Her reply came back almost immediately.

_You’re picking out a tie right now, aren’t you?_

Gold sighed. That woman knew him _entirely_ too well. Before he had a chance to respond, she sent another text.

_I’ve got it covered at the office. It’s my turn to pull weekend duty. Take the day off._

On one hand, Gold wasn’t quite sure what to do with a day off. Work was the one constant in his life that he could fully depend on. On some level Mr. Gold believed that all there was to him, all there would ever be, was his work. But on the other hand…

‘ _New York_ is _beautiful in the fall, but I’m not sure I ever completely noticed it.’_

Mr. Gold put his formal three-piece suit back in the closet and texted Regina back as he pulled out a more casual one. He never had been one for jeans.

Forty minutes later, he was walking the streets of his favorite city in the world, wondering what the hell to do with his day. After getting a coffee (black, none of this half-caf, soymilk, low fat macchiato nonsense) and wandering around for a little while, he found himself walking down the street that the new store was being built on.

 _Wonderful,_ he thought. _I get the first day off I’ve had in god knows how long and I_ still _can’t seem to stay away from work._

Resolutely he turned away from the store and headed around the corner. He had spent a lot of time in this neighborhood lately but he had never actually let himself _see_ it. It was…nice. There were trees here and there, and the buildings were quaint. Most likely many of them were historic. There was a quiet park down the street, and some solid brownstones. The side of the street he was on had quite a few small businesses. There was a coffee shop, a bakery. He saw a tiny little grocery store, and a trendy little boutique. He didn’t realize that he was looking for a bookstore until he found himself standing in front of one. He stared at the books in the display for a moment, before glancing up at the sign above the door. _Braver Books._

Gold was curious, and told himself he was scouting out the competition. Even though he knew it was no competition, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was unusually quiet, though there were quite a few people standing around with their backs to the door. Slipping to the front of the crowd, he saw what had captured their attention. A group of small children sat, rapt, as a woman in a ridiculous hat read to them. _Story time_ , he thought.

The woman was young, he noticed. _Probably an employee, or a volunteer,_ he thought. But she read with passion, and soon he found himself completely captivated.

_“’Princess!’ Despereaux shouted. ‘Princess, I have come to save you.’_

_The Princess Pea heard her name. She looked up.”_

At this point the woman looked up at the children and her eyes skimmed the adults, briefly resting on Gold before returning to the story. He couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were the most extraordinary shade of blue.

_“’Despereaux,’ she whispered._

_And then she shouted it. ‘Despereaux!’_

_Reader, nothing is sweeter in this sad world than the sound of someone you love calling your name._

_Nothing.’”_

Her eyes glanced up again, catching his quickly before she continued to read.

When was the last time Gold had heard someone he loved call his name?

He could not remember.

~~~~~~~~~~

            A little while later, the woman finished reading and the children dispersed, parents purchasing books before taking them away. As the store began to settle down, Gold browsed through the books on the wooden shelves and tables. The shop had an impressive (albeit eclectic) selection for being so small.

            “Can I help you find something?” Gold looked up to see an old woman.

            “Actually…” Gold thought fast. “I don’t see it here. Do you take special orders?”

            The woman smiled. “We do,” she replied. “But you’ll have to speak with the owner. She puts in all the special orders.”

            “Oh, but I thought you…”

            The woman barked out a laugh. “You thought _I_ was the owner? What would an old woman like me want with a shop?” Turning, she caught the eye of the young woman, who was putting the hat away on a high shelf.

            “Hey Belle. Gentleman here wants to put in a special order.” And with that she left them.

            The young woman smiled and walked over. “Hi, I’m Belle.” Feeling flustered, Gold reached out and shook her proffered hand. She was really quite pretty this close. If he were a man more prone to fanciful language he might call her breathtaking. Her eyes were so damn _blue_ , and her hair fell down her back in dark chestnut waves. She wore a blue lace dress with a red belt. He noticed that she was wearing heels, yet was still shorter than he. Not a tall man himself, Gold realized that she was quite small.

            All at once, it hit him. _She_ was the owner. This young, vibrant, beautiful person was the owner of the only other bookstore in the neighborhood.

            And he was going to ruin her.

            Instantly, he realized that it had been a mistake to come here. Faceless businesses were easy to destroy. Actually, he had to be truthful with himself: any kind of business, faceless or no, was easy for him to bring down.

            But at that moment, he knew for a fact that this woman’s face would keep him up at night. He _would_ feel guilt for what he was going to do to her.

            He stood before her, feeling suddenly out of place, like an old beast that had dared to enter the princess’s castle. She seemed to pick up on his hesitation. Reaching out, she took his arm and steered him towards the front desk.

            “If you’ll come with me, I can take down your order,” she said, turning to grace him with a lovely smile, all red lips and white teeth.

            He should have left, right then. Should have mumbled some excuse and gotten away from this friendly little bookstore.

            He should have, but he didn’t.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What book was Belle reading to the kids? Only my favorite kid's book ever. Seriously, read it. #the tale of despereaux ftw


	2. The Crocodile

Chapter 2: The Crocodile

 

            As Belle dragged the man over to the counter, she hoped he wouldn’t be spooked by aggressive customer service. But she could tell that he was a little nervous, or shy.

            Some people just needed a little nudge in the right direction.

            She called up the special order form on her laptop and turned to the customer.

            “Ok, so what was the name of the book you wanted?”

            He looked a little startled, but told her the name of a book. Belle nodded and began to look it up in the system, to see if she could order it.

            “You…have a wonderful little shop here,” the man said. Belle looked up to see him gazing around at the shelves.

            “You like books?” she asked. It was a weird question; he was in a bookstore, buying a book, so that would imply that he liked books. But she meant it in a different sense. Did he like _books,_ did he like to just touch them, to feel the pages and admire the covers and did he like the smell of the paper?

            He looked over and smiled. His eyes crinkled a little at the edges and Belle couldn’t help but notice how pleasant his face looked with a smile on it.

            “You could say that,” he replied.

            Belle realized she was staring and went back to her computer. “Well, this shop has always been my dream.”

            “Oh?”

            “My mother loved books, and she passed that along to me.” Belle told him the basics of how the shop came to be.

            “Forgive me but…you’re a little young to own a business, aren’t you?” He winced as if he hadn’t realized how insulting it sounded until he said it. But Belle just laughed.

            “I suppose a lady isn’t supposed to reveal her age, but in all my 28 years I’ve never been one for convention.” Belle looked up as she said it and caught another smile ghosting across his lips. Then she realized she was staring at his mouth and shook herself. He was a bit older than her, true. But he was handsome, and his accent was sexy, and she found herself wanting to find reasons to keep him in the shop longer.

            “You like the shop?” the man turned to Leroy, who was scowling from the other end of the counter. “You might not get to enjoy it for much longer,” he said.

            “Why’s that?” the man asked.

            “They’re building a Gold Books around the corner,” Ruby chimed in.

            Belle frowned and looked up. “Would you two stop? We are _not_ going out of business.”

            “We’re not?” Granny asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

            Belle sighed. She was sick and tired of everyone’s sympathetic looks, as if her financial ruin was all but inevitable. She didn’t want that from this customer. “Of course not,” she said firmly. “Unlike Gold Books, _we_ have a loyal group of customers and we’re a staple of this community.” She turned back to her customer.

            “We actually have that book in stock, if you’ll just follow me,” she said, and headed off to the travel section.

            They found the book, and the man purchased it, only making a small comment about the high price, which Belle ignored.

            “I hope you’ll come see us again, Mr…”

            He hesitated for a moment. “Rumpel. Just call me Rumpel.”

            Belle raised an eyebrow. “Rumpel. Is it short for something?”

            He smiled, but it was not his warm, quiet smile from before. This one was a bit mischievous, and it made Belle’s stomach flutter. “Yes, it is. Good day.”

            The bell jangled as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~

_You’re sweet to ask, but I’m afraid revealing my troubles would also reveal too much personal information. Suffice it to say a roadblock has been thrown up in my professional life. Everyone around me seems to think it’s a disaster, but I just can’t help feeling that it will all work out. Maybe I’m being hopelessly naïve. Do you think me foolish?_

_What kind of dog is Pongo? I don’t think you ever said._

 

**Let me tell you something, my dear. Naïveté and optimism are not the same thing. Hope is not foolish. Never let anyone try to convince you otherwise. I hope that your difficulties are short lived and easily conquered. But I am always here, should you need me.**

**Pongo is a Dalmatian.**

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle looked around the crowded apartment and fidgeted with her dress. It was a sunny yellow, vintage confection that went to her knees in a wide A-line skirt. This party was a little high-brow for her tastes, and she had discovered to her dismay that everyone was wearing chic eveningwear in shades of grey and black, but she couldn’t have refused the invitation had she wanted to.

            “Belle!”

            She turned to see a little boy emerge from the crowd and run to her.

            “Hello, Henry,” she said fondly as he gave her a hug. “Where’s your mom?”

            He smiled up at her, his blue eyes shining. “She’s here somewhere. Probably arguing with her agent.”

            Belle chuckled. She had met Henry’s mother, Emma Swan, at a book signing she had agreed to conduct at the shop. Emma was a detective with the NYPD, and she had somehow wound up writing murder mysteries on the side. While she wasn’t as well known in the circuit as some of the bestselling mystery writers, she was genuinely talented and Belle admired her work. She had tried to convince Emma to write full time, assuring her that putting out two or three books a year would earn her more readers and establish her as a name in the publishing world. But Emma, ever pragmatic, wouldn’t hear of it. The idea of leaving a steady paying job to pursue something that was by no means a sure thing was beyond the woman’s comprehension. Regardless, the two had hit it off and Emma conducted book signings exclusively at _Bravery,_ while Belle always gave her books a front-and-center display.

            “Oh, there she is,” Henry said. “Mom!” he called.

            Emma made her way over to the window where Belle stood and gave her a smile. “Hey, I’m glad you made it. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

            Belle looked around at the agents and editors and high ranking publishing execs, drinking wine and making meaningless small talk and wearing clothes that would have cost Belle a month’s salary. “Not really,” she had to admit. “But you’re here, so it’s not a total loss.”

            Emma laughed. “Thanks. But seriously, I thought this might be good for you. These people, as much as I hate to admit it, hold a lot of power in the book world.”

            Belle sighed. “I know.” Emma had invited her to the party thinking that making an appearance and discussing her plight with them would get the story out there and hopefully earn her some allies. “But really, Emma. I’m not going out of business.”

            Emma gave her a look that said she was being hopelessly obtuse. “Gold Books opens on Monday. It’s right down the street from you. Belle, you are going to need all the help you can get.”

            Belle sighed again and turned away, looking out at the crowded apartment. It was getting harder and harder to hold onto that optimism. “I guess,” she said.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Gold nodded as the editor he was speaking with (or rather, who was speaking _at_ him) nattered on and on about what he felt the newest craze in publishing would be (scratch and sniff books. Somehow Gold doubted it). He genuinely hated attending these functions, but as his store was rapidly approaching its opening day he needed to be seen in the literary circuit. He needed these overstuffed peacocks on his side. Glancing around the crowded apartment, he noted a few execs that he knew and made a mental note to speak with each of them before the evening was over.

            As his eyes traveled the room, he caught a flash of yellow. He was wondering who it was that was wearing a yellow dress, when the woman turned and he saw with a shock that it was Belle French.

            _Shite_ , he thought. Excusing himself from the conversation, he ducked around to the other end of the room. It would be difficult to avoid her, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to stay and make some business contacts before leaving. What if she saw him?

            Grimly he watched her laugh at something her blonde companion had said. Her yellow dress was out of place, but he preferred it to the drab clothing of the other party goers. Something about her…she was beautiful, of course. But something else drew him to her. Something in those impossibly blue eyes. But then he remembered himself, his job. His destiny was to eat up her little shop and spit it back out, just as it was hers to be sacrificed on the altar of profit.

            He had no room in his heart for attachments.

         His words came back to him: _Hope is not foolish._

He frowned. Maybe not for the woman he had met in a chatroom, who had become his friend over months of emails. She was young, and bright. She had a whole life of successes and failures, love and loss in which he would be but a footnote. But for him, yes. Hope was, indeed, foolish.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle was getting a drink when the older woman standing next to her moved aside. She was startled to recognize the man who had been standing on the woman’s other side. He was looking off to the side and she couldn’t see his face very well, but she knew it was him. She sidled up a little closer.

            “Hi,” she said, suddenly feeling a little shy. When she had met him a few days ago he had been a customer, but in this setting…should she flirt? Should she see if he seemed interested first? She definitely liked him (couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, to her chagrin) but wasn’t sure how to make the first move.

            His eyes met hers briefly before darting away.

            “Hello,” he replied.

            “Remember me? From the bookstore?”

            He looked at her and smiled, but it was stiff and didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, I remember,” he said. Later, Belle would kick herself for not having walked away right then and there. Instead, she persisted.

            “How was Singapore?”

            He looked startled. “What?”

            “The book you bought? I think it was a travel book about—”

            “Singapore,” finished. The bartender handed him his drink. “I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet.” He raised his glass to her and disappeared back into the crowd, without even so much as a goodbye.

            Taken aback at his demeanor, Belle was fervently glad that she had not flirted with him and made a fool of herself. Maybe she had misread the man when she had first met him, because clearly he was _not_ interested in her.

            Belle started to look for Emma and Henry, but before she had gotten very far Emma found her.

            “I can’t _believe_ you were just talking to Mr. Gold.”

            Belle’s blood ran cold. “Mr. _Gold_? As in…”

            Emma gave her a meaningful look. “As in, CEO of Gold Books, taking over the world.”

            Belle felt numb as she walked through to the next room and spotted him at the refreshment table. A small part of her warned that a confrontation would not end well, to leave it alone, to go back to Emma. But Belle was shocked, and angry, and she walked right up to him.

            “ _You’re_ Mr. Gold?”

            If he was surprised, he didn’t let on. “I never said I wasn’t.”

            “But I…I didn’t know…” Belle stammered. God, she was making a mess of this. He cocked an eyebrow as if amused. Belle suddenly felt an overwhelming need to punch his face.

            “You didn’t know who you were with?” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “Well, be thankful I only visited your shop instead of putting a horse’s head in your bed,” he said with a wry smile.

            Belle’s eyes went wide. “…what?”

            Gold sighed. “It’s from _The Godfather_ ,” he said, before circling around to the other end of the table and taking a few spoonfuls of caviar from a plate of tiny salmon wraps. For some reason, this small breach of common courtesy irked Belle beyond belief. Actually, everything about this man irked her beyond belief. And before she could stop herself, she went after him.

            “What are you doing? That’s a garnish, not the main course!”

            Gold turned and looked at her, eyes sparkling. Then, he reached out with his spoon and scooped up all of the caviar on the plate. Belle grabbed a spoon and started putting it back.

            “I can’t belief I ever fell for that stupid, charming act you put on in my shop,” she said as she tried to rearrange the caviar to make it look like it hadn’t been messed with by an egomaniacal asshole. She failed. “I mean, honestly. ‘Just call me Rumpel,’” she mimicked, trying to approximate his accent. “Whose name is Rumpel? I bet that Scottish accent isn’t even real.” She finished with the caviar and looked up, only to meet his eyes and realize she was standing too close. She took a step back.

            “You caught me,” he said with a snide grin. “I just put it on to impress the owners of tiny hole-in-the-wall bookshops. Got to keep up appearances, I _am_ in the book business after all.”

            Belle was fuming. How dare he? “ _I_ am in the book business,” she retorted before moving away. Unfortunately, he followed her.

            “Oh, and I suppose I am the villain twirling his mustache, trying to peddle third rate books to unsuspecting readers,” he snapped. Before, she had felt that he was simply playing with her, but now he seemed genuinely irritated.

            “You said it, not me,” she sniffed.

            A muscle in his neck twitched—she had gotten to him. _Good_ , she thought.

            “And anyways, I can’t believe you came by my shop like that, just to check out the competition!”

            Gold took a step closer, forcing Belle to take a corresponding step back.

            “The competition?” he sneered. “Oh, sure. But I didn’t need to visit your shop, for I happen to have in my possession the top secret sales figures of a bookstore so inconsequential yet full of its own virtue that it actually believes itself to be my _competition_.”

            Belle could only gape as her eyes started to feel hot with unshed tears. _Please, God, let me not cry in front of this man._

Gold was peering at her and a strange expression crossed his face, but before Belle could make anything of it he looked away.

            “There you are!” Belle turned to see Emma approaching. _Thank God,_ Belle thought fervently.

            Emma immediately took up position slightly in front of Belle and plastered an obviously fake smile on her face. It was her warning smile. Belle had only seen it a few times before, and even she had to admit (privately) that it was truly terrifying.

            “You’re Mr. Gold, right? The big wig set on destroying the livelihoods of small business owners in an historic section of the city?” Gold frowned and Emma dropped the smile. “Let me ask you a question: how _do_ you sleep at night?”

            Gold was silent for a beat, he had clearly not expected Belle to have such a formidable reinforcement. But then he grinned a crocodile grin that Belle told herself firmly was NOT in the least bit sexy.

            “On nine-hundred thread count silk sheets,” he replied. “Good evening, ladies.”

            And with that, he melted into the crowd and was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

 

            That night, Belle couldn’t sleep. She wandered around the apartment. She took some books down from the shelf but didn’t read them. She switched on the TV but soon turned it off again. Finally she made a cup of tea and turned on her laptop. To her surprise, she had a new email in her inbox. She checked the time it had been sent: 1:16 AM. _He must be as sleepless as me tonight,_ she thought before opening it.

**Do you ever find that you have become the worst version of yourself? Someone opens the wrong door or pushes the wrong buttons and all of a sudden your inner bastard comes out to play. You feel free to say whatever comes to your mind the moment it does, and you just can’t stop. How hard is it to walk away? Not very. But for some reason I never end up doing that. I always go with the snarky retort.**

Belle smiled and opened up a reply.

_Actually, I’m totally jealous! I’ve never had that problem. I always just freeze up during confrontations and can’t think of a thing to say. I mean, what would you have said to the complete asshole who belittled your very existence? Even now, I’m drawing a complete blank._

**Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could pass along all of my nasty one-liners to you, and I could therefore avoid being naughty, and you could be naughty all the time.**

_You want me to be naughty?_

**You know what I meant.**

~~~~~~~~~~

            Saturday morning found Belle sitting in bed, working on an email. She was thinking of getting up to make some tea when the IM icon blinked.

**Hello, dear. I figured you would be online right about now.**

Belle stared at the words for a minute, feeling warmth spread from her head to her toes. Another message popped up as she was thinking of what to say in reply.

**Would you like to talk? I’ve been told I’m a good listener. Maybe I can help.**

_If only you could help._

**Are you having trouble in love?**

“Subtle,” Belle laughed as she typed her reply.

_No. Actually, I’m having problems with my business._

**It just so happens I’m a brilliant businessman. What’s your problem?**

_No details, remember? So I can’t exactly tell you._

His reply came in a couple of minutes.

**Hm. Well, the only thing I can tell you is this: Go to the Mattresses.**

“What?” Belle muttered.

_What does that even mean?_

**It’s from _The Godfather._**

_Ugh, what is it with guys and that movie?_

**The Godfather, my dear, is classic cinema. And “Go to the mattresses” means FIGHT.**

_You think I should fight?_

**_Always_ ** **stand up for yourself.**

Belle was contemplating his reply when he sent another message.

**Do you think we should meet?**


	3. Roses are red, red

Chapter 3

 

            Gold entered the recently completed bookstore, shook off his umbrella, and growled. It had been hell trying to get through all of the protesters outside in the rain, and he didn’t relish trying to fight his way back out for lunch.

            “Idiots,” he growled. “What the hell are they even chanting?”

            “I believe it’s ‘One, Two, Three, Four, we don’t want this superstore,’” Regina supplied helpfully.

            “Clever,” Gold snarled as he headed to his office.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle hadn’t replied that night when he had asked to meet her. In fact, she had let out a squeak and shut her laptop. She fully admitted to herself that she was a coward, but she was terribly afraid that if she met him he would disappoint her, and she dearly wanted to remain his friend. She thought she could sacrifice the chance at something more for the certainty of a continued friendship. And besides, his advice had left her with a newfound sense of determination, and a lot of planning to do.

            By the next morning, she had the support of several influential members of the community, a number of local authors, and Channel 7 news which had agreed to cover the protest. She had called up Emma who had gotten a lot of the off-duty cops and their families down to Gold Books to protest, as well as some other writers she had connections with. Before, Belle wouldn’t have dreamed of playing David to Gold’s Goliath, but now she felt as if she actually had a fighting chance. After seeing all of the people willing to help, she started to think that her little store really did make a difference in people’s lives.

            _Maybe we’re going to make it after all._

~~~~~~~~~~

            The protest lasted through Gold Book’s grand opening and through its first week of business. Mr. Gold was irritated, to put it mildly. He had expected this whole thing to blow over quickly, especially when he had discovered that it was Belle French who had organized this whole thing. He had thought that once Ms. French saw that her efforts were not improving her sales, she would break off the offensive. However, while watching the 7:00 news the following Tuesday he started to realize that she wasn’t going to back down.

            Gold shuffled papers on his desk while Regina gave him yet another lecture. “Really, Gold. When are you ever home? Don’t you have a parakeet or something to take care of?”

            He was planning a biting retort when he suddenly saw Ms. French’s picture flash up on the television. “It’s a dog,” he replied faintly, reaching for the remote and hastily turning up the volume.

            _“Bravery Books, a small bookstore here in the Upper West side, has suddenly become a household name,”_ the news reporter was saying. _“In an age when big business rules, Belle French is fighting for the rights of small businesses everywhere.”_

            Gold snorted. “They make her sound like bloody Joan of Ark” he muttered.

            While the reporter explained that French was organizing a campaign to put Gold Books out of business, the TV showed video footage of the protest, some kind of press conference, and a short clip of Ms. French speaking on The View.

            “They put her on _The View_?! How did I miss that?” he wondered.

            “Um, maybe because you don’t watch The View?” Regina said with a smirk.

            “You’re fired,” he grumbled.

            “No, I’m not.”

            The news station had started replaying part of her appearance on the show, and Gold’s eyes shot back to the TV at the mention of his name.

            _“I’ve spoken with Mr. Gold,”_ Ms. French said tersely. _“And I have heard him describe himself as a villain, and call his books third-rate. Why are we allowing someone like that into our lives? Why are we bringing third-rate books into our homes and reading them to our children?”_

            Regina raised an eyebrow. “You said that?”

            “That was entirely out of context!” he sputtered, gesturing at the screen. “That isn’t what I said! Well, it is, but… oh, never mind.” He jabbed the remote angrily and the screen turned black.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle checked the numbers. She ran them through the computer again. She made sure that all the sales were accounted for and added them up again by hand. Finally, she admitted defeat and threw her pencil down on the table, leaning back and sighing with frustration.

            “We’ve got people protesting day and night and every media outlet in the city on our side. How in the _hell_ are sales going down?”

            Ruby just frowned and shrugged. Leroy gave a wry grin and said, “Well, look on the bright side.”

            Ruby, Belle, and Granny waited for him to continue.

            “ _What_ bright side?” Granny finally demanded when it became clear that he was done speaking.

            Leroy looked around at the three women with a frown. “Hell if I know. That was me trying to offer consolation.”

            “Well, you suck at it,” Ruby snapped as she got up and grabbed her purse.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” Granny demanded.

            “I have a date, I told you that earlier,” Ruby replied.

            “How can you think of going out when poor Belle is sitting here trying to figure out how to save the bookstore?”

            Ruby had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, Granny. I guess I didn’t think of it like that.” She looked over at Belle with pleading eyes. “I’ll stay and help Belle.”

            Belle fought the urge to roll her eyes. “No, go on your date. I’ll probably still be here in the morning anyway,” she joked.

            Eventually they all left her to go home, leaving Belle alone. All of a sudden she felt a wave of utter exhaustion wash over her. She had spent almost four weeks making phone calls, giving interviews for TV and newspapers, holding rallies and press conferences. She wondered if David had felt this tired while fighting Goliath.

            At home, Belle made some tea and got ready for bed. Then, firing up her laptop, she had a thought. After a moment’s hesitation, she typed up an email and, before she could second-guess herself, hit “send.”

_Hi. It’s pretty late, I hope you’re still up. I’m sorry I haven’t emailed you in a few days, things have been…busy, to say the least. I…haven’t been doing too well. My business troubles are going from bad to worse. I could really use some advice. Do you still want to meet?_

She figured he was asleep and started to close the laptop, thinking that she could read his reply in the morning. Suddenly, her email pinged. One new message.

“That was fast,” she whispered, clicking on the email.

**Just tell me where and when. I’ll be there.**

~~~~~~~~~~

            “So, let me get this straight,” Regina said as they walked toward the brightly lit café. It was 6:00, starting to snow, and bitterly cold. “You met this girl online in a chatroom. You’ve been emailing each other pretty much nonstop for the past six months, and now you’re going to meet her in real life?”

            “That’s the plan,” Gold replied.

            “So…you’ve never seen her before. Not even a photograph of her?”

            Gold stopped walking and turned to face her. He wasn’t sure why he had brought her with him _Yes you do, you coward_ but she was turning into an annoyance as usual.

            “If you have a point you’d better make it. I’m late as it is.”

            “She could be hideous,” Regina replied.

            “She’s not,” Gold shot back.

            “How can you possibly be so sure? You’ve never seen her before!”

            “Because I just know. Will you leave it alone?” If he had to be honest with himself, he had no clue what to expect. But he knew this woman’s heart, and he knew that no matter what she looked like, he would find her beautiful.

            “She could be a _he_ ,” Regina said with a laugh.

            “Will you shut up?” he growled. Regina simply laughed again.

            “Nervous, are we?” They had reached the café where shopgirl had agreed to meet him. “Wait,” Regina said suddenly. “How are you going to know her if you don’t know what she looks like?”

            “She’s going to have a book with a rose in it,” he replied.

Regina grimaced. “How…romantic,” she said. Then, she got a mischievous look in her eye that Gold knew all too well. Before he could stop her, she had run up the steps of the café and was peering in the window.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he hissed. Regina paid him no heed.

            “I see a beautiful young woman sitting alone in the back,” she said. Despite his irritation, Gold got a little excited. Then Regina flashed him a grin. “But no book with her.”

            “Will you get down from there and just let me get inside and see for myself?” he snarled. But some little part of him wanted Regina to look first. Regina must have sensed that too, damn her, because she ignored him.

            “Ok, ok. I see a book with a rose in it. Yes, definitely a rose.” She was silent for a moment.

            “Well? What does she look like?” Gold snapped.

            “I can’t see, the waiter is in the way. Oh, wait, hang on, he’s moving. Ok, I see her. She’s…” Regina trailed off.

            “What? She’s what?”

            Regina was staring silently in at the window, and only glanced back at him after he had called her name a few times. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

            “Well? What does she look like? If you insist on playing these games with me at least have the decency to see them through,” he said.

            “She’s…” Regina looked back in the window once more before heading slowly back down the stairs. “She’s gorgeous.”

            “Of course she is,” Gold said. He hadn’t really had any doubts, but it was nice to hear.

            “She’s, well…she almost looks a bit like…that Belle French woman,” Regina ventured.

            Gold, already preparing to go into the café, looked back at Regina with a frown. Why would she spoil his mood by bringing up the name of the ever-present thorn in his side?

            “Belle French? What does she have to do with this?” he snapped.

            Regina wouldn’t meet his eyes. “If you don’t like Belle French, then you won’t like this girl.”

            “Why the hell not?” Gold was feeling an impending sense of dread.

            Regina lifted her eyes to meet his and he saw that they held pity.

            “Because she _is_ Belle French.”


	4. Mochacino Land

Chapter 4

 

            “What are you going to do?” Regina asked.

            Gold stood frozen in place, mind racing. _shopgirl is Belle French?_ It took a moment for him to recognize what he was feeling as betrayal, though in his heart he knew that he had not been deliberately deceived. It took another moment to realize that Regina was trying to get his attention.

            “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked, snapping out of his shocked reverie.

            “I said, what are you going to do?” she repeated slowly, as if speaking to a particularly slow child.

            Gold glanced at the doorway to the café, the brightly lit windows, and heard the faint sound of laughter. He looked at the dark street, snow swirling and making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. He felt a curious numbness, and underneath that…loss.

            “Nothing,” he said quietly, before starting off down the street. The cold was hurting his knee, and his limp was more pronounced. He couldn’t remember feeling more tired or old.

            “Wait,” Regina called, catching up with him. “You mean you’re just going to let her sit there and wait?”

            “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Good night, Regina.”

            She stopped walking, letting him go on ahead.

            “Good night,” she said quietly, watching him disappear into the gently falling snow.

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle checked her phone, the readout told her that he was a half-hour late. _Must be the snow,_ she thought.

            Running nervous fingers through her curls, she hoped that he was all right. She jumped when a waiter came to ask her if she’d like another cup of tea. She didn’t, particularly, but had to order something or leave. Keeping one eye on the door, she reached over and moved the book she’d brought ( _Pride and Prejudice,_ one of her favorites) to the edge of the table. Wondering if it was perhaps too difficult to see the rose, she placed it on top of the book. Then she had to hastily grab it again as it started to slide off.

            “Damn flower,” she muttered, wondering why she’d picked such an awful cliché to be her identifier.

            She checked her phone again. He was now 34 minutes late. As she was tucking her phone back into her purse, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and the bell above the door of the café jangled. Excitedly she looked up…only to freeze at the sight of Mr. Gold. He was looking at the menu and it didn’t seem as if he’d seen her yet. Quickly, she fumbled for her book and opened it, holding it up to hide her face as best she could. Unfortunately, she had chosen a table with a direct sightline to the door. _What a night to run into_ him _, of all people!_ Belle thought, praying that he wouldn’t see her.

            “Hello, Ms. French.”

            _Damn._ Her hopes dashed, she steeled herself and lowered the book. “Mr. Gold.”

            “This is certainly a coincidence, isn’t it?” he said with what Belle thought was a wolfish grin.

            “I suppose,” she replied with what she hoped was aloofness.

            “May I sit?” he asked.

            “No! No, I’m sorry, I’m expecting someone --” she protested as he leaned over the read the title of her book.

            “ _Pride and Prejudice?”_ he said, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose you’re one of those women who adores that Mr. Darcy character. In fact, I would bet anything that this is your favorite book,” he sneered. “I’ll bet your sentimental heart just beats wildly at the thought that he and…whatever her name is are going to end up together.” Despite the fact that she knew he was goading her, Belle suddenly felt like a silly little girl, embarrassed at her choice of book.

            _Wait a minute, why am I embarrassed? Pride and Prejudice is classic literature!_

            Before she had time to come up with a response, he had seated himself and removed his coat.

            “Wait a minute –”

            Just then the waiter came up and asked Gold what he would like.

            “No, he’s not staying,” Belle protested, but Gold simply ignored her and placed his order. The waiter hurried off and Gold fixed her with a smirk. Belle gritted her teeth.

            “The heroine of _Pride and Prejudice,”_ she ground out, “is Elizabeth Bennett, and she is one of the greatest and most complex characters ever written, not that _you_ would know.”

            “Actually, I’ve read it dearie,” he smirked.

            “Whatever.”

            “You’d probably know that if you actually got to know me instead of villianizing me on national television,” he grumbled.

            Belle sat up straighter. “If I really got to know you I’m sure I would find that instead of a brain you have a cash register and instead of a heart you have a bottom line,” she shot back.

            Gold quirked an eyebrow at the smile that suddenly spread across her face. Belle knew she shouldn’t be smiling like that after insulting someone, but she couldn’t help herself.

            “I can’t believe I just did that!” she said excitedly, grabbing his arm where it rested on the table and hastily dropping it.

            “Did what?”

            “I said exactly what I wanted to say, exactly when I wanted to say it!” she exclaimed. “And I have you to thank for it.”

            “Congratulations,” he said dryly. The bell sounded again and Belle’s eyes shot to the door. Gold turned around and they watched two older ladies enter. Belle’s smile disappeared and she turned back to Gold. She felt alarmed at the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and was determined not to cry in front of Mr. Gold again.

            “Please leave,” she whispered. “Please?”

            His gaze softened. Gathering his coat and his coffee, he stood. Belle gaped as he grabbed his cane. He was actually going to leave when asked?

            But it was too good to be true, for he merely moved to sit in the chair directly behind hers.

            “You know, I keep thinking back on the day we first met,” he mused.

            “You mean the day you first lied to me,” she retorted, keeping her eyes on the door.

            Gold sounded scandalized. “I most certainly did not lie to you.”

            “Yes you did!”

            “No, I did not.”

            Belle twisted around. “’Just call me Rumpel?’”

            Abruptly, he stood up and walked around her table to sit in the seat across from her. “I can see you’re still hung up on that, but rest assured that I never once lied to you that day, about anything. I may have omitted pertinent facts but what use would it have been to you to know what I did for a living that day? Knowing that fact would not have enabled you to stop me.”

            Before Belle could reply the door opened again, and a colorful looking man in a cape made an entrance.

            “I’m going to go ahead and assume that isn’t who you’re waiting for,” Gold said, turning back to her. “But now I’m curious. Who is he? And will you submit him to the same charming company that I am experiencing from you tonight?”

            “No, of course not,” Belle replied. “Because he is completely different from you. He is kind, and sensitive, and funny, and—”

            “But _he’s_ not here,” Gold interrupted.

            For some reason, this hurt Belle more than everything else he had said that night. _Why isn’t he here?_ she wondered. He would get rid of Gold in a heartbeat. But he wasn’t, and she would have to deal with Gold herself. Angry and hurt, she said the first thing that came to mind.

            “Well, I’m sure he has a very good reason, because there is not a cruel or careless bone in his body. Unlike _you_ , with your theme park, multi-level, homogenize the world, mochacino land. You’ve deluded yourself into thinking you’re some sort of benefactor, bringing books to the masses. But no one will _ever_ remember you, Mr. Gold. And maybe no one will remember me either, but they will remember the stories that they found, and maybe they’ll think that my little store was something special. _You_ are nothing but a suit.”

            Belle sat back, slightly breathless and lightheaded after that little tirade. Gold just stared at her a moment, and if Belle didn’t know better she might say that she saw hurt in his eyes.

            “Good night, Belle,” he finally said, after several inscrutable moments. He put down some cash for the drink he had ordered and stood. Belle was too surprised at his use of her first name to reply. His gaze softened a little. “I hope he shows up.”

            With that, he turned and limped out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

            When Belle went to open up the shop the following morning, Ruby was waiting for her.

            “So? How did it go?”

            “How long have you been waiting out here to ask me that?” Belle asked.

            “Only the last half hour,” Ruby replied as they went inside. “Well? Tell me everything!”

            Belle sighed and set her purse down on the counter. “He never came.”

            She turned to see Ruby’s horrified face. “He stood you up!” she said angrily.

            Belle turned away and began unpacking yesterday’s shipment. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I think that something happened, something terrible and unexpected that kept him away and unable to let me know about it.” Belle sighed again and her hands stilled. “But what if he did show up? What if he showed up, took one look at me and left?”

            Ruby leveled her with an ‘are you a complete idiot?’ look. “Not possible.” Then she suddenly gasped. “What if he got trapped in the subway?”

            Belle smiled and went with it. “And signal down there sucks so he--”

            “He couldn’t call or anything! And there’s the express trains with the suction--”

            “He got sucked onto the tracks!”

            “The third rail! He’s toast!”

            Leroy had come in at some point during the exchange. “Who’s toast?”

            “Belle’s date never showed up last night,” Ruby said.

            Leroy immediately looked like he was going to hurt somebody. “He stood you up?”

            “No!” Ruby replied, as if shocked he would think such a thing. Belle just laughed and opened the next box.

            “Maybe he got in a car accident,” Ruby mused as Leroy started the coffee pot and grabbed the morning paper. “And he’s in intensive care. Ooh, maybe he’s in a coma!” she sighed. “And the heartbeat monitor is beeping softly, and he’s trying to reach you with his last remaining brainwaves.”

            “Ruby, you are the only person I know who thinks that a man in a coma is romantic,” Belle laughed. Just then, Leroy swore.

            “Holy shit, check this out. I know what happened to your mystery man,” he said, handing Belle the paper. Ruby read over Belle’s shoulder. The front page held a blurry photograph of a man in handcuffs being shoved into a police car. The headline read COPS NAB ROOFTOP KILLER.

            “It could be,” Leroy said.

            “Are you saying he’s the rooftop killer?” Belle asked dubiously.

            “Well, he was arrested two blocks from the café,” Leroy reasoned. “And I guess there was a phone in jail…”

            “But he was only allowed one call and he had to make that to his lawyer,” Ruby jumped in. She gasped and turned to Belle. “Oh my god. You’re so lucky.”

            “What?”

            Leroy shook his head. “You could be dead,” he said with utmost sincerity.

            Belle just stared at her friends for a moment before she shook herself and resumed unpacking boxes. “You guys are insane. I’m sure he had a very good reason for not being there.”

            And with that, they were open for business. No more mention was made of her mystery man, but she didn’t notice the concerned looks that Ruby and Leroy shot her for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like this chapter is a little shorter than the others...  
> I borrowed some of the dialogue pretty heavily from the movie here...I kept trying to deviate and Belle kept wanting to follow the script so *shrug* what's a girl to do?
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of this or not. This is all I've written and I'm not sure if I should keep going. I wonder if the "You've Got Mail" thing is a little too obscure? Am I the only 20-something that grew up on these kinds of movies?


	5. The worst day EVER

           When Belle got home that night, she fired up her laptop and started an email. She dithered over it for a half hour, fiddling with the commas and deleting a few words here, inserting a word there. Finally she decided that she had done quite _enough_ stalling, thank you very much, and she hit send.

            Then she sighed and went to make a cup of tea.

~~~~~~~~~~

            When Gold got home from work that night, it was nearing ten o-clock. He had been working late again, and despite Regina’s best efforts had refused to leave at what she called a “decent hour.” He threw his coat and jacket on the sofa and sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes and giving an excited Pongo some much needed attention. As had become his habit, he went over and checked his inbox. He felt a sharp jolt when he saw that he had a new email from Ms. French. From _Belle._ Gritting his teeth, he quickly shut the laptop and went to the kitchen.

            Ten minutes later, fortified with tea and a sandwich, he settled on the sofa and started to flip through a book that he had been trying to finish reading for two years.

            Maybe that said something about his life. Gold couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.

            He stared at the same sentence for twenty minutes before he growled and went to get his computer. Limping back to the sofa with it, he opened the email.

_Hi. I’m going to go ahead and assume that something terribly important and utterly unavoidable kept you from our meeting last night. I want you to know that I forgive you (well, I will. Eventually). I hope that you are safe and well._

_While I was waiting for you, an amazing thing happened. This…_ person _showed up. This person who is making my professional life a living nightmare showed up and was completely (and predictably) horrid and for the first time in my life I actually stood up to him. I told him exactly what I was thinking exactly as I was thinking it, and it ended up being_ exactly _what I meant to say._

 _But upon reflection…you were right. I mean, I doubt that what I said actually_ hurt _this man (to him, I am just a bug to be squished)._

 _But what if it_ did _? I feel terrible, like an utter beast. That wasn’t me. I think if I had him here right now I’d probably apologize (not that he’d care one way or the other)._

_Anyway, that was my night. How was yours? Are you ok? (My friends are convinced you’re the Rooftop Killer…if you are don’t tell me, ok?)_

_< 3 Shopgirl_

~~~~~~~~~~

            Belle was in her favorite jammies (pink pinstripe with little tea cups on them) and was settling into bed for the night. It had been a nice night, overall. She had gotten some paperwork done, watched a little TV, and read a little before bed, with lots of hot tea in between. And she had _certainly_ not checked her email every five minutes.

            Nope.

            She had just turned off the light and closed her eyes when her laptop chimed.

            Belle _certainly_ did not shoot out of bed, nearly knock over the lamp trying to turn it on and stumble to the other side of the room, banging her shins on the chair in her haste.

            Because that was too pathetic.

            Rubbing her sore shins, Belle bit her lip and clicked on the email.

**I cannot apologize enough for my absence last night. It was unavoidable, but inexcusable. And I’m so sorry that, right when you had expected to see a friend, you had to face an enemy instead. I should have been there for you.**

**But, it sounds as if you had matters well in hand. Try not to feel too guilty, dearie. I’m sure the tosser deserved every word.**

**Pongo is here and demands that I give you his regards. And that I give him a biscuit. Ungrateful curr.**

**I wish you a peaceful sleep and pleasant dreams. And now I must go, for the prison guard is here to inform me that my daily computer time is up. You don’t happen to know a good lawyer, do you?**

**Yours,**

**ny425**

~~~~~~~~~~

 

            “So he didn’t actually say _why_ he wasn’t there?” Ruby asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

            “Um, no,” Belle replied, stacking some books on the shelves. “But he was really apologetic, and he seemed normal.”

            Leroy coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “rooftop killer.”

            “I’ve finished running the numbers, Belle,” Granny said.

            “What’s the verdict?” she replied, but going off of the grim look on the old woman’s face, she knew it wasn’t good.

            Belle went to look at the numbers for herself. She rechecked a few figures before sighing and throwing the paper down in disgust.

            “I don’t understand. All this publicity, protests. I’m on the news, in the paper. I’ve got authors holding book signings to raise awareness. How can sales be _down_?”

            Granny made a sympathetic noise and rubbed Belle’s back.

            “Things will pick up again,” she said. “They always do, dear.”

            Belle looked around at the teal and ivory shelves, the bright posters in the kids section, the front window displays that Ruby always spent hours making _just so._ She looked past the window, at the families walking by, and the couples with their hands clasped tightly. She looked around at her little store as if seeing it for the last time.

            “No,” she said softly. “I don’t think they will. Not this time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 

            It was a few weeks after the café incident and three days after Christmas when Regina burst into Gold’s office with the strangest expression. It was like her face didn’t know whether to be happy or sad and so had settled on a disturbing half-way point.

            “What?” he asked suspiciously.

            “It’s done. _Bravery Books_ has announced that it’s going out of business.”

            Gold sat back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. He had known this was coming. He’d just been trying not to think about it.

            God…poor Belle. She had to be a mess right now. He looked up, suddenly realizing that Regina was still in the room with him.

            “Are you ok?” she asked.

            “Fine.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “What is this, a game show? I’m _sure_. Now get back to work,” he snapped.

            “Fine, grumpy,” Regina muttered with a pout before striding out of the office as dramatically as she had made her entrance.

            Gold sat for moment, staring out the windows at the city he loved, spread out beneath his feet. It was alive, breathing. Like him. Like Belle.

            Abruptly he turned and grabbed the phone. He had plans to make.

~~~~~~~~~~

He got the email the next night, after a few unusual days of radio silence.

_Sorry I haven’t been around for a while. I’ve been…_

_My store went out of business yesterday. I had a store, did you know that? It had always been my dream. There was a time when I didn’t think it was ever going to happen. But I made it work, I built it up all by myself._

_And now it’s gone. And I feel like a part of me is gone with it._

_Sorry for the maudlin thoughts. I just wanted you to know what was going on with me._

~~~~~~~~~~

 

         Three days into the New Year, and Belle was miserable. Not only was she utterly adrift, without a purpose or a livelihood, but she was now had a cold.

            Lying on the sofa in flannel rose-covered jammies, unhappily sniffling into her tea and watching hosts with disturbingly perfect teeth present things she couldn’t afford on the Home Shopping Network, she felt like her life couldn’t get much worse.

            When the intercom buzzed, Belle groaned and stumbled over to the door, trailing used Kleenex as she went.

            “Yes?” she demanded.

            “ _It’s Mr. Gold. Of Gold Books? Can I come up?”_

            Aaaaaaand her life just got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems like you guys are enjoying this, so I decided to continue with it. And BTW, someone mentioned that this has been done before? Damn. I never check these things before I start writing. Oh well, what’s another Rumbelle You’ve Got Mail AU?
> 
> Up next, we finally start getting to the goodies. Roses! Illness! Apologies! Used Kleenex! Huzzah!!


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